


Mark of a Man

by lmm (badbromance)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-03
Updated: 2011-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-18 22:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/193883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badbromance/pseuds/lmm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In short, Draco was doomed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mark of a Man

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the May 2005(!!!) round of the Pornish Pixies Fantasy Fest. Requested: _Orderspy!Draco desperately wants to get rid of Dark Mark; ritual to do so is powerful sex magic with bonding/marriage qualities &only qualified wizard (to his disgust) is HP. Good: kink, humiliated!Draco, secretly delighted!Harry, potential for happiness_.

_Nothing good could come of a day where you had to be awake before noon_ , thought Draco. Yes, awake before noon and forced to be blinded when your overeager best friend pulled open the draperies. Awake now, Draco sat up in the bed. "Bloody hell, woman. Do you have any idea what time I went to sleep?"

Cheerfully ignoring this, Pansy sat down on the end of his bed. "Do you really think I care? I'm only glad that you're _dressed_." She waved her hand at him, unloading a stack of books to the bed. "Yes, well, I wouldn't be here, were it not for some very enlightening information."

Draco groaned; this couldn't be good. "Well, goody. Let me guess… you've discovered that Malkin's is having a sale on silk robes. No, no… you've met a sexy, single, devastatingly handsome man for me and his name is Hans and he's into massage."

"Honestly, Draco. If he were that handsome, I'd keep him all to myself." She smiled at him and shoved a musty-looking tome at him. "Here, it's what you've been searching for. It seems there is a real way to get rid of that tacky tattoo."

 _Tattoo._ Well, that was _one_ way to describe the Dark Mark. Draco and Pansy had been looking for a way to remove the damn thing, and every idea they'd come across had been more ridiculous than the one before it. One even involved bathing his arm in the blood of a virgin under the full moon. He had actually considered that one, but decided that he just didn't know any virgins. Oh, well. "You mean another blood sacrifice? Or does this one involve an actual murder?" He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and focussed on the words before him.

_Very few methods exist to correctly remove a magically-created mark…._

Really, you don't say.

_A mark can only be removed if the magical forces of a more powerful wizard than he who hath marked binds his magic to the marked. Only then will the marked be free of what ails him._

Draco frowned, shoving the book aside. "Right, well, all we need to do is find someone who is more powerful than Voldemort and have them agree to bind their magic to mine. Should be quite easy, wouldn't you agree?" He read over the words again, feeling a headache forming behind his eyes. "You're forgetting that Voldemort was the most—"

"No, Draco, he wasn't. Had he been, he wouldn't have been killed." Fixing him with a significant look, Pansy seemed to be letting him work it out on his own.

And he was… but the end result of his thoughts only led towards one person, and there was no way in hell he'd agree to it. "You don't mean… _Potter_?"

Pansy's silence said it all, and Draco pulled the blankets up over his head again. "Go away. You're barking mad if you think that I'd ask perfect Potter to help me!" Yes, the headache was larger now, and settling into his skull like a hibernating bear. "And you're even madder if you think he'd actually agree."

"If you don't ask him, I will," she said, voice rising. "I haven't busted my arse for the past six months trying to help you just to have you give up when presented with something that will actually work!" She pulled the blankets back down, tapping her foot against the floor.

  
"I never asked for your help, you realise?" As soon as Draco said it, he knew he was screwed.

Pansy's face hardened into what Draco knew as the 'I am going to hex you bald!' glare. "Fine! Walk around with the mark for all I care. You were the one stupid enough to take the damn thing! You couldn't just go off with Snape like the rest of us!" She walked over and poked Draco in the chest.

She had a point, and Draco wanted to strangle her with it. "You go ahead and rant and rave, but do you really think that I have any chance getting Potter to do something for me? He wouldn't give me a cup of bloody sugar if I asked, and I'm to expect that he'd... do this? He wouldn't. He won't." Fucking hell... why did it have to be Potter? Anyone else he could just bully into helping him. Or at least bribe. But what the hell did Potter need that he could offer? Aside from his charming smile and firm arse, that is. And there was no guarantee that he could woo Potter that way. Correction– there was no guarantee Potter would even speak to him.

"What do you have to lose, Draco? Look at you! You can't get a job with that thing on your arm. You get looked down on and I can't even take you into decent society." The steam seemed to be gone, and she sat back down with a heavy sigh.

Draco didn't like to think too much on his current situation. A good number of the Slytherins had elected to take the protection that Snape and Dumbledore provided; it had only been Draco, Crabbe, Goyle and Blaise that had resisted. Well, Draco hadn't been given much of a choice; he'd been grabbed from school and nearly damn forced to take the fucking mark. He hadn't ever considered that there would be another way, his father being who he was. Still, the responsibility was his alone; had he wanted to run away with Pansy and the others, he could have.

And so now he had to find Potter and hope the other man didn't hex him on sight. "I'll ask him, but if... no, _when_ he says no, then I guess I'll make plans to say 'I told you so'."

Pansy smiled, sitting up straighter. "Well, then, you'll just have to give him a reason to want to help you."

In short, Draco was doomed.

*

Pansy had discovered that Potter was working behind a desk for the Minister for Magic. Draco wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle the excitement of visiting such an illustrious location, but he decided to be brave. He wasn't sure why– certainly he hadn't actually spent a tonne of Galleons on clothes with which to impress Potter— but he'd had a suit specially made for him for the occasion. Pansy selected the tie, which matched Draco's eyes exactly. He'd even splurged on some new cologne; after all, you catch more bees with honey. Shortly before leaving, Draco inspected himself in the mirror and resisted the urge to preen for too long.

The absurd phone booth outside of the Ministry was clearly one of the more daft contraptions Draco had ever encountered. He was also certain that it had been Potter who had specified that his pass said "Draco Malfoy, annoying bastard." Gritting his teeth, Draco made his way to Potter's office. The door read "Harry Potter. Senior Auror: International Affairs." Rolling his eyes, Draco knocked on it.

"Come in."

At the sound of Potter's stupid voice, he did as requested. Potter's office was very much like him; droll, plain and boring as fuck. There were a few potted plants, some nauseatingly sweet photographs of Granger and the Weasel, and Potter's Order of Merlin certificate. Other than that, the walls were _beige_. "Well hello, Potter. You're still as exciting as ever, aren't you?"

Potter looked over at him as if he had a second head. "I cannot even imagine why you're here, Malfoy." He slipped his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes. "However, here you are and since I've some time yet before lunch… please, do tell."

Yes, well… right. He could do that, couldn't he? He'd felt extremely confident before leaving the house, but now… he just felt vaguely nauseated. And it wasn't because of the mundane office. He had a feeling that Potter would see right through whatever lie Draco tried to tell, and since Draco really had no reason to lie, he went with the truth. "I need your help, Potter. It's a matter of extreme importance."

Raising an eyebrow, Potter dropped the file he was reading. "Let me guess, we're in Hell and I should commence the search for an anorak straight away?"

"You're just so funny, Potter. Who knew?"

Potter gave him the two-fingered salute. "You need my help with what, exactly?"

Removing the book from his pocket, Draco showed Potter the exact passage that Pansy had pointed out to him. He had most of it memorised now, after reading over it so many times. Butterflies fluttered around in his stomach as he watched Potter reading it over. He was so prepared for Potter to say no, that he missed what exactly Potter had just said. "What?"

Sighing, Potter repeated himself. "I said, do you realise what sort of spell this is? Do you really understand what it means?"

"Yeah, you have to do some sort of binding spell on me and then the mark comes off and we go on our merry way. Right?"

The look on Potter's face said it all– it wouldn't be that simple. "No. In order for this to work properly, we have to invoke strong sex magic and bind our magic together. That can only be done if we are involved in a consummated marriage."

Oh, fucking _shite_. He really was going to kill Pansy. With sticks. "A… consummated… marriage. Can wizards even _get_ married? Wait… _sex magic_?"

Potter narrowed those green eyes. "Why would you think that I would want to marry you? Why do you even care about the bloody fucking thing when you obviously took it willingly?"

Draco knew he had winced, but he'd been unable to stop it. The answer had been expected, but this turned out to be more of a rejection than he'd been expecting. Granted, he couldn't blame Potter; how romantic was it when someone asked you to marry them to get rid of the mark of their enemy that you'd willingly taken? Of course, Potter didn't know that he'd done it to save his sanctimonious arse.

"You _did_ take the mark willingly, didn't you?" Potter's voice startled him, and seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet room now.

Draco didn't feel like lying, so he didn't. "I'm not a good boy like you. I just… can't get anywhere marked like this. People think that I'm evil, and that I'm going to poison them if I offer them anything. I've had first dates that used poison-detecting charms on their drinks before sipping them!"  
"Oh, boo hoo. Tell me, were you thinking about that when Snape offered you protection? Were you thinking about it when Pansy was so upset about you leaving them that she didn't eat for a week, and ended up having to be forced fluids? Were you thinking about it when Voldemort was killed and you'd realised that you pledged your allegiance to fucking madman?" Potter was sneering at him, waving around an especially sharp graphite stick.

"Don't presume to know what I was thinking, Potter. You've no idea what it was like to be grabbed in the middle of the night from your dorm and forcibly taken home. You also have no idea—"

Potter held up a hand. "Stop. Again, you could have take refuge with the others, and not slept in your room _alone_. So don't tell me that poor, defenceless Draco was stolen in the dark of the night without his permission. You sacrificed your life and name for the Galleons from Lucius."

Yes, he had done those things. Yes, he had allowed himself to be taken… but he had to. He had to give himself to the Death Eaters because they no longer trusted Snape. Fuck. "Forget it, Potter. I told Pansy that you wouldn't help me." He got up, reaching for the book. However, Potter pulled it out of his grasp before he could reach it. "I'd like my book back now, if you wouldn't mind."

"Yes, I'm sure you would." He walked over to the other side of the desk and leaned back against it. "Tell me, Malfoy, why should I do anything for you? Give me a good reason."

He was closer now, and Draco could _smell_ him. His cologne, clean and yet incredibly naughty, filled the area around them. There was also this warmth that he exuded; a radiating heat that seeped right into Draco's being. Those green eyes were focussed solely on him, and Draco couldn't help but squirm. "Because you're the only one who can?"

Potter seemed to be considering this, and read over the passage again. "Well, I don't know anything about how sex magic works, but this sounds… complicated. You have to be willing to give yourself to me, and well the marriage aspect of this sounds less horrid than the alternative."

"What's the alternative, then?" What could be worse than marrying this oversized git? Incredible sex or not, this was still _Potter_.

A blush crept into Potter's cheeks. "It's… well, let's just say that it's a slavery bond."

Draco choked on his water. "What?! I am going to kill Pansy. Slowly."

"Relax. I don't have any desire to keep you as a slave." His smirk seemed to say otherwise.

Draco squirmed again, feeling pinned to the chair by those eyes. "But you just said, Potter, that you wouldn't consider helping me. I don't appreciate being teased."

Potter leered at him, and it made Draco shiver right down to his bones. Fucking pervert. "You're right I wouldn't. And if you don't mind, I have to get back to work now."

So, that was it then. "Right. So sorry to disturb your undoubtedly exciting day." He forced a smirk and walked to the door. "You could have just said no to begin with."

Nodding, Potter walked back around his desk and sat down. "Yes, but where's the fun in that?"

Fun, right.

*  
"So, what happened?"

Draco made a face and folded himself into a chair. "Oh, you know… the usual."

Making an impatient sound, Pansy walked over to him. "The usual? Did you even ask him, Draco?"

Yeah, and he wished that he hadn't. "Yes, of course I did. And he said no!" Pansy bit her lip. "Oh, don't look so surprised. I told you that he would. He doesn't want a damn bloody thing to do with me, and I can't say that I blame him."

Now she was cross. "Well that's utter crap. I'm going to talk to him… make him see reason. I mean, if we left it up to you-"

"You are not! I'll not have you begging him to marry me! We'll find _another way_." He waved his hand and Summoned a house-elf, instructing it to give him a very stiff drink.

Thankfully Pansy was quiet for a bit. The fact that there was no other way was making his stomach do a flip. This was it, and Potter had said no. He was stupid to think that the other man would say yes; he had no idea that Draco had helped him win the war. And, really, there was no way of knowing that Potter would help him even if he did. Well, no, he probably would… but then there was the whole pity thing. Ugh. Fuck and double fuck.

"Maybe we should go together then? That way you can be sure of what exactly I'm saying?"

Draco doubted that was a good idea, but he nodded anyway. "Yeah, all right. But if he says no this time, that's _it_ , you hear me? I'm not begging."

Pansy sighed, sliding into the chair opposite him. "What exactly did he say?"

After explaining, Draco shrugged. "We also talked about you… okay, he talked about you. He said that you made yourself ill when I was away and that you needed fluids."

Looking uncomfortable, she cast her eyes down. "I was worried. I knew that you were going, and I figured that you would be safe, but Snape said that there were no guarantees and after what happened to him I just didn't know what to think. I wanted to believe that it was worth it… that we turned our backs on our families for a reason."

Draco could still remember the look on his mum's face when he confessed to her that he was instrumental in her incarceration. Still, that was nothing compared to the crazed look and sheer madness of Voldemort. Yes, it had been worth it. Even if he was always marked, it would be worth it. "You know what the reason was. Would you rather be sitting here now with Voldemort running the Ministry?" She wouldn't answer him, but Draco knew that she agreed.

"Do you have a plan in mind if he says no… again?"

He didn't, and she knew that as well. "We'll just have to make sure that he doesn't."

*

The next morning, after waking at an absurdly early hour, they made their way to Potter's office. Pansy was rigid beside him, looking over at Potter like he was an annoying insect. For his part, Potter was again wearing a smarmy, self-satisfying grin. Draco was not looking forward to confessing his wartime activities to Potter; he just didn't know what else to do.  
"So, I see you've brought your guard dog?"

Pansy shot him a look that could curdle milk. "Ugh, Potter, your wit is about as sharp as your mind. Now, be quiet and listen to me, for once?"

Potter nodded, peering at her curiously. "Right."

"There's a lot that you don't know, because everyone was so damned worried that Voldemort would be scanning your puny brain. When Snape was discovered as a spy, the Order approached Draco to take his place. He was sneaky, and neither side trusted him, so he spent his days trading secrets for either side." She tapped her fingernails against the arm of the chair, letting Potter absorb this. "The only reason you discovered where Voldemort was, is because Draco tortured Lestrange for the information and passed it on to Lupin."

Obviously wary of these claims, Potter shook his stupid head. "No, Remus told me that the information had come from Aurors working on the case… and that one of them died-"

Draco held up a hand. "Jack Sloper; he was my partner at the time."

"So, you're not just saying this to get me to do your little ritual?"

Pansy got to her feet this time, leaning over to grab Potter's tie. "You ungrateful little git! Do you have any idea what some of us went through so that your precious arse could find and kill that fucking madman? And here you sit, righteous as can be, saying no to us when we need your help!" She pushed him back and took a step towards the door, smoothing her hair back in place. Draco wanted to clap, but figured it wasn't proper. Obviously disgusted, she threw Potter one last scathing look and left. They were quiet for a few moments, trapped in uncomfortable silence.

"It's just a bit much to believe, is all. You as an Auror… were working to get information for me. You don't even _like_ me." He glanced at Draco, and Draco swore he saw something in his expression change. It was gone before he knew it, though. Potter's voice was quiet when he spoke again. "Right, well, do you think you're the only former Death Eater to come to me with some sort of convoluted spell? The most interesting had to be Goyle, who was convinced that I could help him get rid of his mark if I…" He broke off, shuddering. "Well, let's just say that it involved chocolate and licking."

Ok, that was just nasty. "This happens a lot then?"

He nodded. "If I took you up on your offer, it wouldn't. We could kill two birds with one stone, I think. I mean, you need the mark removed and I need a wife."

Draco heard the amusement in Potter's voice, but it did nothing for the blood boiling in his veins. "I'm _not_ going to be your fucking _wife_ , Potter!" he spat, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh, yes, Malfoy… you will. You have no choice as far as the wedding goes, I'm afraid." He leaned over, turning to the pages in the book that outlined the ceremony and ritual.

Draco looked up at Potter with a panicked expression. "Oh."

Potter walked back around his desk and sat down, sliding the book across the table. "We're not deciding right now. I… need time to think about this. I'm not sure it'll work if you're not willing to go through with all of this."  
Nodding, Draco stood up and pocketed the book. "Give me two days."

"Two days." He met Draco's eyes, and Draco could have sworn that they were darker than they had been before. Swallowing, he nodded and let himself out.

 

*

Those two days found Draco spending time reading and memorising everything in the fucking book that had to do with the ceremony and ritual. He'd questioned Pansy about how much she knew, and got nowhere. Not that he believed her, but there wasn't much that would change even if she did admit that she had known. So, he read. The wedding itself sounded absolutely horrid, and he couldn't believe that he was even considering it. Just the idea of wearing white was laughable as well; he hadn't been a virgin since before he left school.

On the evening of the second day, Potter showed up on his doorstep with Granger in tow. After blinking a few times at them, he invited them in. "Don't tell me. You're here collecting for war orphans?"

Granger huffed impatiently and detached from Potter's side. "Hardly. We're here to discuss the particulars of your… marriage." Her nose wrinkled at that, and Draco rolled his eyes.

He looked over at Potter, who was already sprawled out across his settee. "Our marriage? Have you decided then, Potter?"

Fixing him with a smug grin, Potter nodded. "Yes, I have. Hermione has all the appropriate paperwork, so all we have to do is sign on the dotted lines and all that rot."

And there they were… the papers that would seal his fate and tie him to Potter for the rest of his life. They were all marked with official Ministry stamps and statements from the Minister for Magic and his secretary. Harry's name was printed beneath one blank and Draco's under another. Below that was room for Hermione, who was apparently acting as their official barrister.

"I've been reading about what we're going to have to do and… we're going to need a… bridal party. Bridesmaids, groomsmen, all that shite. And we have two weeks to pull this together." He didn't want to look up at them, mostly because a good lot of the spell kept referring to him as the _female_.

Granger's voice broke through the tense silence around them. "Two weeks from when you sign this, the ceremony and ritual have to be complete. The… ritual takes the longest and must start no later than one-hundred-twenty minutes after the end of the ceremony. It can, however, last as long as it needs to as long as it does not extend beyond midnight." She paused, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "With the two of you… I would suggest that you schedule the ceremony for early morning."

Draco frowned at that. Really, did they think he couldn't lay back and think of England while Potter nailed him into the mattress for thirty seconds? With a sigh, he Summoned a quill and pulled the parchment towards him. The ritual actually would take them a good four hours or so, but still… he wasn't expecting the actual sex to take that long. After signing his name with a flourish, he slid the whole mess towards Potter.

To Granger's obvious dismay, Potter signed his name to the parchments and watched as intricate vines began to wind around their names. Draco could have sworn that he felt a distinct tightening around his neck as they finished with a fleur de leis. Granger's signature was last, right before the parchments rolled up and disappeared with a puff of pink smoke.  
That was it, then.

*

Pansy woke him again the next morning, hanging up various garment bags around the room. For a moment, Draco wasn't sure what she was on about, but when the first was unzipped, he crawled back under the covers. "Go. Away. I'm _not_ wearing those."

She huffed, and he heard more furious unzipping. "Yes, Draco, you are. Now get _up_ because I've only so much time to get you properly fitted." She swept past him, turning down the blankets.

From where he was, they didn't look too bad. There were, well, dresses of all types… fuck. Dresses. He groaned and again wished that he'd never agreed to take the damn mark in the first place. Figures that the one time he picks to do something nice for someone, it backfires right back at him. Damn bloody Potter and his damn bloody dresses.

Speaking of dresses, Pansy put the first one onto the bed and studied it critically. "Well, it has to be elegant. I mean, this will be the event of the year, you realise. It has to _fit_ most importantly, and you haven't a curve on your body."

Draco whimpered and instinctively put his hands up over his chest. "You are _not_ giving me tits, woman!" He eyed the bundle of white and pouted.

"Fine, but you are getting curves around here." She ran her hands over his hips and he inhaled, glancing down.

"What the sodding hell? NO… no, Pansy—"

" **Put** the dress on _now_."

Ugh, fine. He had little say in this anyway, as it were. Not caring in the least that Pansy was standing there, he stripped and attempted to get the dress on. It was a lot harder than he was expecting, much like everything else about this. Pansy took pity on him and laced up the back, and… fuck, he was in a bloody dress.

"Okay, get over here now. In front of the mirror, if you would?"

He did as instructed and clasped a hand over his eyes; he didn't want to see. "Tell me, do I look completely ridiculous?"

Pansy snickered, and he turned around to tell her off and noticed… Potter. Oh, just _brilliant_. "What is he doing here?"

"Oh, don't stop on my account." He leaned against the wall, a smugly amused expression on his face.

However, Pansy took pity on him and swatted at him with her handbag. "Out! Potter, honestly, you cannot see the dress before the wedding!"

Any moment now the floor was going to open under his feet and swallow him whole. Yes, any moment. "How did you get in here?"

Potter cleared his throat. "The terms of our engagement state that I have access to you whenever I wish. And… I had to give you this." He walked close to Draco and handed him a small velvet box. Oh… right.

Opening the box, Draco peered inside. Really, if Potter was going to go through the spectacle, it'd better be nice. And, it was. Platinum; [simple and elegant.](http://www.tiffany.com/expertise/diamond/rings/engagement_etoile_ring.asp?ring=solitaire&) "

Draco was so absolutely, without a doubt, screwed.

*  
Luckily for all parties involved, the… ceremony arrived before they knew it. Draco was made up like a complete tart, and had the unfortunate luck of actually looking quite stunning in his… dress and… veil. Pansy was serving as his Maid of Honour, and she had persuaded a few of her friends into filling out the rest of the bridal party. He was certain that Weasley and some of Potter's other unsavoury friends would be handling things on the other end. To say that he wasn't looking forward to parading around in front of the Weasel like this was a gross understatement.

And then there was the fact that was nervous. Yes, bone-rattling nervous. There were butterflies in his stomach the size of Snitches. It was silly! It was a mockery, and he felt it down to his very being. Potter was probably only doing this to humiliate him, anyway. Sure, he had the manor and he had Galleons but Potter couldn't possibly--

"It's time, Draco." Pansy tugged on his arm, urging him towards the door.

He took a deep breath and nodded, ready to face the music. And oh, God, the music; Potter had horrid taste in composers. Honestly, every bride this side of Liverpool used _Canon in D Minor_. Right, _Potter_. He was standing at the end of the aisle, smug as you please, with Weasley snickering into his hand. Draco wasn't going to let them ruin this for him. Keeping his chin up, he strode confidently down the aisle, aware of the stares and whispers around him.

The rest passed in a blur of vows, magical bindings and snickers. When Potter – Harry – finally told Weasley to leave off, Draco denied the pleasure he felt. Draco swore he heard the Weasel mutter something about his little sister, but Draco looked better than that ginger tart ever would. Finally, the immortal words of "You may now kiss the bride" were spoken. _Harry_ stepped up to him and pulled his veil back, and Draco's hands twisted nervously in his bouquet. Yes, he was really in for it if he couldn't even handle a small kiss. He felt Harry tip his chin back, and then warm lips were pressing against his.

One of Harry's large hands came to rest at his hip, holding tightly, as the kiss morphed from innocent into demanding. The heat contained there, and the way Harry's teeth tugged gently at his lower lip had him hard before he even realised it. A cough to the left of them finally broke them apart, and Draco gasped at the hungry look in Harry's eyes; a look he knew was meant only for him from now on. _Ritual… we have to flit off now to have sex…_. For the first time that day, Draco grinned.

_*_

As it turned out, it looked like it was going to take some doing to get away from the ceremony. Between photographers, reporters, friends and cake, they were just going to make the two-hour time limit. Harry hadn't let go of his hand the entire time, and had even squeezed it a few times as they walked. Draco grew increasingly restless and itchy to start the ritual and a nervous swirling his stomach caused him to lose his balance a bit.

"Are you all right?"

Pouting, Draco nodded. "Well, I'd be a lot better if we could just get the bloody hell out of here already. Honestly, I don't know how many shots of me in a dress someone could need."

"Good idea." He leaned in, eyes dark and full of intent, and brushed his lips over the pulse point on Draco's neck. "We've a lot to do yet."

Draco swallowed, the laces on the back of his dress feeling too tight, too constricting. "I would really like to get on with that, If you wouldn't mind…"

A shiny, silver bauble was produced then, and Harry pulled him close before the world around them started spinning. When they stopped, Draco found himself leaning against Harry for support. _Bloody_ Portkeys… he'd always loathed them. Someone, he suspected Granger, must have been there before the ceremony. The expansive room was filled with white roses, scenting the air around them. He wasn't sure where they were, and before he would contemplate anything, Harry was tugging on his hand.

The bed, also strewn with roses, was magnificent. It rose up at least a metre and was piled high with squashy, white pillows. A scroll sat in the centre, topped with an exquisite-looking quill. Harry met his eyes and motioned for him to sit. He hadn't actually sat down in the dress, and found himself caught up in the train. Finally tripping into a seated position, he scowled over at him. "Not a word."

Harry only grinned, however, and reached for the scroll. "All right, the first part of the ritual begins now." Leaning over, he flattened out the parchment so that they both could read it.

_Ancient wizards believed that sex magic was at the heart of Dark Magic, for the  
feelings of arousal were considered impure and unclean. The spells you are about to incant  
are, by their nature, intended to bind two magical folk together in body, mind and soul.  
Consent on both parties is required, for the spell cannot be cast if one partner is  
unwilling. _

_Holding your partner's hand, please repeat the following words; **evincio animus duo  
insinuo**. _

Harry did so, speaking each word clearly and carefully. Draco followed, and then something around them just _changed_. Gasping, Draco raised his eyes to Harry's. He couldn't remember ever wanting anything more than he wanted Harry's hands on his skin… feeling his mouth making its way down his body. "What the fuck?"

Flushed, Harry reached out, clasping his still-gloved hand. "That wasn't even the strongest of the three."

 _Oh. _Oh, God_. _ Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't going to have to lay back and think of England at all. Squirming on the bed, he tugged at the white silk that seemed content to cut off his breathing; damn Pansy for insisting he wear a corset.

Harry's strong hand on his arm gave him pause. "Don't… just don't. It's hard enough for me to not tear you right out of that thing."

His voice had a hard, desperate edge to it and it went straight to Draco's cock. Needing some space, he got to his feet, pacing barefoot in front of the bed. It was quite ridiculous, parading around in a frothy white creation while his cock was hard enough to carve cement. "What's next then?"

The answer came in the form of an incredibly warm rush that nearly knocked him to his feet. Then the answer was there, right on his lips. _"Esurio...."_

Harry was immediately behind him, one arm curled around his waist. " _Esurio, modus_." They were pressed together from head to toe, Harry's hand travelling with excruciating slowness down his front. The first contact of Harry's hand against his trapped cock made his knees give out.

In the blink of an eye, Harry had him pressed against the wall. The feral, almost mad look in those green eyes was nearly his undoing. "Is this what you wanted, Draco? Did you want me claiming you?" He rolled his hips against Draco's, crushing their mouths together before Draco could reply.

Yes, fuck yes, this was what he wanted. The magic crackling around them was nearly a living and breathing presence. Draco could feel his heart beating practically out of his chest, and nearly missed when Harry started to remove his gloves. The gloves had been Pansy's idea; symbolic of covering his dark mark with the white mark of the wedding that would eliminate it forever.

Harry tugged on the offending fabric covering his right arm, pulling it off. "Yes, you are mine, aren't you?" He spun Draco around to face the wall, fingers going down to the laces holding the corset in place. However, instead of pulling them loose, he tugged tighter. Soft, wet lips trailed across the back of Draco's neck, before he felt Harry's warm breath against his skin and his teeth grazing the tender skin where neck and shoulder met.

Harry's fingers tugged on the laces, letting them loosen. Each centimetre of skin was touched… burned hot and bright by Harry's tongue. It wasn't enough though; he had to feel Harry. With a whimper he spun around, raising his arms over his head and letting the dress slide down to pool around his middle. Harry's eyes drank him in, his hands passing smoothly over Draco's heated skin. "And what are we wearing under the dress?" Harry whispered, plunging his hand into the bunched up satin.

"Potter, you fucking tease… find out for yourself." Draco gasped as Harry's hands made contact with the stretchy lace holding his cock prisoner.

All propriety gone now, Harry growled, kneeling as he lowered the dress to the floor. "Mine," he whispered, teeth sinking into the baby-soft skin of Draco's inner thigh. One of his hands closed around Draco's cock, squeezing and driving him fucking mad.

He wasn't going to last much longer like this… he'd been too hard for too long. "Going to fucking come…"

Reaching for Draco's left hand, and keeping his eyes locked on Draco's the entire time, Harry slipped the remaining glove off, exposing the Dark Mark. Draco flinched, struggling to pull his arm away when Harry leaned in and ran his tongue over the twisted skull. The combination of the magic spurned by the ritual and the lingering magical signature in the mark were enough to bring every lamp inside of their room to life in a blazing flare. It burned, too; burned red hot and through his veins, pooling in his cock. Harry repeated the action, hissing something that Draco knew to be Parseltongue.

Fuck, he was only just married and already he was going to die. Holding onto his control with the patience of a fucking saint, Draco slid his fingers into Harry's unruly mane. "Burns," he whimpered, thrusting towards him.

Harry slid his fingers under the elastic holding Draco's knickers up, grabbing his arse. "Look at you, all wrapped up." He gathered the material in his hands and ripped, freeing Draco's cock. Standing once again, Harry had him pinned to the wall with his gaze. Reaching for him, Draco's fingers slipped and tugged along the tailored lines of Harry's clothes as he removed them. It was fast and messy and the first feel of Harry's skin against his was brilliance.

Slamming him against the wall again, Harry's fingers were holding tightly enough to his arse to leave bruises. They met in a hungry kiss, fuelled by desire and desperation. "Oh, you want it, don't you?"

"What the fuck do you think?" Draco ground out, resting his cheek against the cool wall after Harry spun him around. He heard Harry rustling about for something, and a moment later two slick fingers were sinking into his arse. "Ah… bloody _hell_ , Potter." It was as if Harry knew exactly where to touch and exactly where to press to drive him beyond the point of madness.

"You aren't to come until it's time, understood?" Harry whispered, fingers pressing insistently against the spot deep within Draco that made him scream. "Good boy." He pulled his fingers out then, fucking him right into the wall with his cock.

Draco tried to hold on, but couldn't find purchase against the wall. Harry's slick hand closed around his cock and he was saying something, but it was beyond Draco's comprehension. "Wh-what?"

"I said," he thrust frantically inside of him, "that you need to repeat the second part of the ritual."

Right, which would be easy enough if Draco's mind wasn't a hazy fog of lust. But it was there, just barely. " _Esurio_." He panted, twisting and digging his nails into Harry as everything intensified to nearly the point of pain.

Harry's arms tightened around him, as he spoke the answering part of _"_ _Esurio, modus_ _"_ and then not only did the lights flare to life, they exploded around them in brilliant shards of multi-coloured glass. It was Harry's turn to scream then as his orgasm ripped through his body. "Draco… oh, fuck… mine, you're fucking **mine.** "

Draco sagged a bit, cock still painfully hard. After pulling out, Harry walked them over to the bed and pushed him down against the roses. He selected one of them; one with wide open petals and Draco knew what he was about to do a moment before he did it. He watched, fascinated, as Harry dragged the silken petals down the centre of his chest and over his cock. _"Esurio… Erised… Erised,_ " he said, before licking his lips and sliding them over Draco's aching cock.

It was more than he could handle. As Harry's tongue danced along the head of his cock, lips coaxing his orgasm from him with blistering hot suction, he tugged furiously on Harry's hair and came harder than ever had in his life. The last thing he could remember before blacking out was the feel of Harry's arms around his middle.

*

"It's gone."

"Wha?"

Harry thwapped him gently on the arse. "Get up, you lazy git."

He did, opening his eyes and finding Harry smiling down at him. Everything came rushing back and he actually blushed, watching as the moonlight caught the stones in Harry's wedding band. "It's… gone? Not just faded?"

Settling against his chest, Harry nodded. "It's gone. See for yourself." He yawned, breath coming out in warm puffs against Draco's still-sensitive skin.

Draco gathered the courage and looked down to find his arm as unblemished as it had been since before the war. Nothing remained but the echo of what it used to look like there on his arm. They'd actually done it. "Harry?"

"Hmm? Sleepy."

"Thank you," he said sincerely, dropping a kiss to the top of Harry's head.

Looking up at him in mirth, Harry snickered. "Oh, don't thank me yet; you're now stuck with me for the rest of your life."

Yes, he was, wasn't he? All in all, it wasn't a bad place to be stuck. He didn't love Harry, not yet. But that was fine, because he was certain that Harry didn't love him either. They'd have to work on that, but it didn't matter now. The bed was warm, and the roses were intoxicating and he had Harry Potter snuggled up on his chest.

Just maybe he wasn't so screwed after all.


End file.
